Interpret:

Bad Religion

Album:

True North

Welcome, my son
To where the work is never done
And the hungry are seldom ever fed


The department of false hope
Is a proving ground for dopes
And they'll grind your tiny bones to make their bread 
(Hosanna)


So hold your head up high, forgotten man
Tomorrow won't be made for you
And everybody's gotta try to lend a helping hand
For god and man, there's nothing more to do


It crackled on the radio
Through bright plumes of the sun
The announcer said the age of faith was dead


Though the adolescent nation
Was just looking for salvation,
The beast of reason reared its ugly head 
(Hosanna)


So hold your head up high, forgotten man
Tomorrow's not for me and you
And everybody's gotta try to lend a helping hand
For god and man, there's nothing more to do


From your cradle of destruction,
With the poorest of instruction
And the merest sliver of a tune,
Oh, you managed somehow to muddle through


So hold your head up high, forgotten man
Tomorrow's not for me and you
And everybody's gotta try to lend a helping hand
For god and man, there's nothing more to do


There is nothing more...